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Show the street knew the exact location and gave Port clear directions. It was almost dark when Port reached the Beebe home, a comfortable com-fortable wood frame house on a large lot. A log barn stood behind the home, and an assortment of fruit trees was scattered about the yard. Since the Beebes had just arrived in Independence the previous summer, it was obvious they had purchased the home rather than build a new one as most Mormons were doing. Slowly Port dismounted, tying both horses to the hitching rail. He could see no one near the home or barn, but lights in the glass windows told him the Beebe family was home. Removing his felt hat, he ran his fingers through his short, sandy hair as he walked towards the door. He had washed his hair that morning. It still felt clean. He rubbed the side of his face to see if it was still smooth from an early morning shave. It was. Racing Willard Sweeney had been fun. This was not. He wished he were home. But it was too late to turn around. His palms were sweating. With the hat in his left hand, Port raised his right fist to the door to knock. He hesitated. It wasn't too late to turn around and head for home. No one had seen him, not yet. But after winning the race and turning away Willard, he couldn't turn back. He knocked. He was unaware of the excess adrenalin in his system. The thick pine door v shuddered on its hinges. "Don't have to beat the door down," cautioned a middle-aged man with spectacles and gray, receding hair as he quickly pulled the door away from Port's thundering thun-dering fist. "May I speak with Luana?" Port . asked, his voice faltering. "And who might I tell her is ; calling?" i "Orrin Porter Rockwell." i "From around here?" "The Big Blue." Port nodded to ; the west, the direction of his home. "You're a member of the church, then." Port nodded that he was, noticing j that Mr. Beebe was looking down at his hat which during the brief conversation had been rolled up into a ball. Quickly, Port moved the wad j of felt behind his back. "What business are you in, young man?" Beebe asked as he ushered Port into a small parlor, motioning for the nervous young man to be seated. "Got a ferry on the Big Blue. j Started operations today! Charge 25 cents for wagons, 10 cents for horses and cattle, a nickel for people. Business is good." Port could hardly believe he had said so much. Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as he had thought. "Is your father named Orrin too?" "Yes, sir." "I've heard of him. Aren't you from Palmyra? Friends of the Prophet Joseph?" "I chopped wood and picked berries to help pay for the first printing of the Book of Mormon," Port answered. He could tell that this last bit of information had won him the respect of Mr. Beebe, who was about to ask another question when he was interrupted by a female voice calling from the next room. "Was that Willard at the door?" "No," the father said. "A mister Rockwell to see you." (To be continued) I'.v I he time I he horses reached full gallop the mare was several lengths in front, spraying Port and Bill with slinging particles of dirl and rock. Port leaned further forward, the mane whipping his lace. Bill was no longer falling behind, but feeling more powerful with every stride. "lliya!" Port bellowed in the deepest, strongest voice he could muster. For a moment, totally absorbed in the excitement of the race and drinking deeply of what he thought the true stuff life is made of. he forgot Luana. This was living. "Hiya! Hiya!" By the halfway mark Bill had nearly caught the streaking sorrel. Willard looked over his shoulder once and applied his rawhide whip to the mare's rump. The whip had little effect. The mare was already giving her all. But it was not enough. Bill was gaining on her with every stride, passing her well ahead of the finish line. The bay won by nearly two lengths. "Wow! What a horse!" Port thought as he reined in the bay. How much faster would he get with a little experience? And Bill was only three! Fastest horse in Missouri. Willard didn't st ick around as Port dismounted and saddled Bill. "I'll tell her you're sorry you couldn't make it." Port shouted alter Sweeney as he rode away. "You haven't seen the last of me! " shouted the Missourian as he rode out ol sight. After the horse race Port still felt reluctant about going to see Luana, but now that he had won visiting rights from Sweeney he felt compelled com-pelled to follow through, regardless of his fears and uncertainties. Not only had he earned visiting rights by winning the race, but he also felt he had saved Luana from the clutches of a lustful villain. She was in his debt. The only problem was she didn't know it, and Port had no idea how he might explain the situation to her. Upon entering Independence, Port's first pleasant thought was that he might not be able to find the Beebe home. But the first man on |